


Shit Happens Man(was Forget Me Not)

by twixkittehz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hurt Stiles, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda, M/M, Moving On, On the Run, Pack Feels, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Denial, Self-Doubt, Sexual Abuse, Sheriff Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twixkittehz/pseuds/twixkittehz
Summary: Run, it was the only thing Stiles was thinking as he ran through the streets of Pittsburgh. Run, and don't look back. In fact do anything but look back.The plan was for Stiles to go to Pennsylvania, study forensics then return back to Beacon Hills. That was the plan, until Stiles met him, the perfect representation of a nightmare dressed as a daydream and Stiles had a feeling things weren't going to go as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> btw the first chapter might be really shitty cause it was written at literally 2 am, and wasn't edited or beta'd sooo, ye and it's also pretty frickin short.
> 
> I do not own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters and the show is not mine! (also constructive criticism and letting me know if I made any mistakes is always welcome! thanks!)
> 
> ALSO (man so many also's) I used the name John instead of Noah just cause I'm more used to John than Noah, I'm sorry if that bothers anyone T-T but it just is more natural using John for me. thx :)
> 
> *pretend Allison, Boyd and Erica are still alive and well and that Jackson and Isaac never left*
> 
> None of the emotional or sexual abuse is from Derek and Stiles' relationship. Same with the rape/non-con warning. But, please proceed with caution if you find any of those themes, and the others listed above, triggering, stay safe loves<3 and enjoy!!

_R_ _un,_ that's the only thing he was thinking as he sprinted through the streets of Pittsburgh.  _Run, and don't look back, in fact, do_ _anyth_ _ing_ _but look back._  

Stiles could feel his legs start to ache and his breathing start to get heavy quickly, he really was out of shape. Though the pain and burn didn't stop him, he kept sprinting, and winding between people walking by him. His lungs screamed at him to slow, to stop and rest but he couldn't and he urged his legs to carry on and keep going. Stiles felt himself almost sprinting blindly, he shoved past other people despite their protests. He had to make it, he had to. He ran until he reached the nearest train station and then he finally stopped. The ground around him seemed to sway and he places his hands on his knees, bent over desperately trying to catch his breath. The moment he did he turned around to see if anyone was following him,  _no one, good._  

Sadly, there wasn't any one way trips to Beacon Hills from Pittsburgh that he could afford, so he stuck with the farthest place he could get with the money he snagged in his quick rush to escape. The train left the next morning so Stiles had a lot of time to kill, he decided to spend it by sleeping. His breath was shaky when he finally released it as he took a seat. That was also when he noticed the very few people in the station. An old man, reading newspaper, a mother and father with their toddler, a young woman in a faded jean jacket and dark hair, and a middle aged man with his hair just barely graying, staring aimlessly ahead of him, seemed to be the only ones sitting. Anyone else in the station were walking to their train.  

Stiles looked back up at the ceiling and began to doze off, soon enough he was asleep.  

The first time he woke was in a jolt, he sat straight up and came very close to a scream. Fucking nightmares. He looked around himself just to check again if anyone had found him yet. Again, no one was there and noticing he still had several hours before his train, he fell back asleep.  

The next time he woke was from the loud commotion of the train station and he sat up, wiped the drool from the edge of his mouth, blinked a few times and got up to make his way to his ride.  

Right on time, thank god, Stiles didn't think he could handle more stress than he already is.  

His first step onto the train already felt like a breath of fresh air, he eagerly took the next ones onto the train. When he found a seat, it felt kind of awkward. All around Stiles were people with bags or other friends and family but he was there, no bags, no accompanying people, not even a cell phone. just himself.  

He tried not to stare at every passing person, he tried not to make a habit out of checking if every person was  _him_ or not. He tried not to, but he did anyway. He only relaxed when the train finally left the station, along with the source of years of pain and struggling. He felt like he could stand up and cheer, pump his fists in the air and smiles with joy, but he didn't, because he knew his escape wasn't finished yet, he still didn't know how to get the money for his next train ride. He ended on figuring that out later, for now he'll just sleep. And sleep he did.  

As he left the train, he thought of a possible solution. Though there was only a slight chance it would work. He went to a bank and tried to access any stored money he had, normally he could've been able to use an ATM but his debit card was taken from him. Thankfully he had enough to buy the ticket to Beacon Hills. He let out a big breath of relief and went back to the station he arrived at to get his next ticket. His ticket back to safety.  

This train ride was the same as the first one, Stiles with nothing on hand, no one with him, and slept pretty much the entire ride. Only difference was he was a bit more jittery on the second ride.  

The second he stepped off the train he sprinted once again, he dashed through the station and climbed onto the next bus to his home. He was grateful for the bit of extra cash he decided to take when he was getting the money for his second trip, but he was also hoping his dad still lived in the same house and had not decided to move.  

Just the thought of seeing his dad again made tears well up in his eyes, he wore just the slightest smile and was racing down the steps of the bus when it reached his neighborhood. He couldn't help from speeding down the sidewalk, desperation rising faster than it ever had on the trip back. The sound of the soles of his shoes echoing down the street,  _I wonder if anyone hears me, I wonder if anyone can see me, do they notice? Does the pack sense me? I don't know,_  he thought as he continued to take long strides towards his house. When his house was in view, he slowed, and his heart shattered and he began to panic. There wasn't a car in the driveway. It was empty.  

 _N_ _ononononono_ _, he couldn't have moved, he has to still live here, he's probably just on the night shift, stop panicking Stiles, he's probably just at work._ Stiles walked up slowly to his door step, and his tears finally did begin to fall, he had to stop giving up hope so quickly, there's still a chance. He wiped his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and took a heavy seat onto the front steps, unable to get in because like his debit card, his house key was also taken away or lost, he couldn't remember which. Stiles was willing to wait as long as he had to.  

The sky was a mix of purples and oranges and blues, the sun was setting, it must be around 8-ish, that means if his dad wasn't on the night shift he would've been home by now, but since he isn't, he must be taking the night shift. That meant he probably won't be home until many hours later. Stiles, exhausted and unable to stay awake, of course, fell asleep on the steps leaning on the wooden post along the stairs.  

Stiles woke to the crunching sound of tires on asphalt, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes a bit, how long had he been sleeping. The glaring headlights and his bleary vision from waking up certainly didn't help see who pulled into the driveway. It wasn't until he heard the man's voice did he realize who it was; the one he came back all this way for.  

"Stiles?"


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles sat up straighter and like a dam set loose, hope filled his chest, "Dad?" 

"Stiles, oh my gosh, stiles, son," his dad said, and rushed towards Stiles who was starting to stand from the front steps.  

"Dad?" Tears were rushing down both their faces and they embraced tightly. Stiles buried his face into the crook of his dad's shoulder, breathing in his familiar smell, the one he hadn't been able to be around for years.  

"Stiles, I can't believe you're here, where were you, what happened, I-we missed you so much," John cried, and pulled Stiles closer to him. Stiles could only shake his head and continue to shed tears.  

"I missed you too dad, and wait- what do you mean 'we'?" 

"I mean Scott and Lydia and Allison and Isaac, heck even Derek, everyone stiles, everyone missed you. " John said concerned.  

"Oh-I thought just-never mind." 

"Stiles what happened? are you okay? Where were you all this time?" John's eyes began to rim with tears. 

Stiles just shook his head again, "Nothing, you don't have to worry about it-"  

"Yes, I do have to worry. We haven't seen you or heard from you for more than three years and you suddenly come back unannounced, I'm worried Stiles. What happened?" 

"Nothing, dad, really. It's honestly fine. I'm back aren't I?,' stiles said with a forced grin.  

"I-yeah, you should get some sleep, I have no idea how long you were sitting out there so go to bed," John complied but as Stiles watched his dad open the door, he could tell he was holding back from pressing more and refraining to ask the plethora of questions swimming through his head.  

Stiles sucked in a short breath when he first walked in, everything was almost the same as before and he felt like sitting on the floor and take in the feeling of just being home again. He began to weep again when he entered his room, absolutely nothing had changed since he left. The air felt thick when he first opened the door. Dust had also collected on some of the items and the few posters he did decide to leave, still hung on his walls, the corners slightly curled. Stiles was overwhelmed. That was the only word to describe it. He remembered sitting in this room four years ago, packing his stuff, excited out of his mind to go to college. He remembered the twinge of heartache at the thought of being so far away from his friends and family. He had no idea back then how much he would end up hating being on the campus and how much more he would miss the people back home for the following years.  

Stiles frantically tried to wipe the tears away but failed. His father came rushing into the room and took Stiles into his arms and held him while he cried. They sat together, on the floor, leaning against the bed. Stiles was finally hit with the reality of being back home. That only made him want to stay in the house and never come out. It might be better anyways, Stiles wouldn't have to tell anyone, he wouldn't have to see anyone, he wouldn't have to confront the pack. But Stiles knew his dad would never let him stay in the house forever, he would eventually make Stiles see the pack. Stiles panicked at the thought, what the hell would he tell them. He could make up a story. He could tell them he didn't have time to visit and he couldn't call or text because he broke his phone and didn't have enough money to buy a new one. All of that was technically partially true, he couldn't visit at all cause of being busy and also other reasons, and it is true he didn't have enough money to buy a new phone because he literally didn't have any money, also he did break his phone but he wasn't the one who broke it, well not really. And maybe, just maybe if he told himself and other people this version of what happened then possibly, he would begin to believe it too, and forget all that actually happened.  

- 

Sunlight was pouring through the blinds, casting shadows on everything in the room when Stiles woke up. He looked around himself, vision slightly blurry and blinked a few times before remembering where he was, but only after a few fleeting second of panic. Someone, assuming it must've been his dad, had placed him into bed and tucked him in after he fell asleep, who knows when.  

It took a few moments to recall how he got home in the first place. Eventually he remembered the train rides, the reunion with his dad and his old home. And the pack, although he hadn't seen them yet, he was already dreading it. They most likely didn't want to see him. Stiles didn't want to face their anger. He felt like such an idiot, and he wouldn't blame them if they also thought so. He just caused so much commotion and trouble. He felt bad for putting his dad through all that turmoil for so long, only to come home and cause more of it. He felt like melting into a puddle and disappearing through the floorboards. Maybe things would've been better off if he just stayed in Pennsylvania, he thought to himself. There went his mood for the rest of day, but then again there was only ever a small chance it would be even a little better than this.  

He groaned at the thought of getting up, why couldn't he just stay in bed for the rest of his life. Regardless, he willed himself to get up. He grudgingly rose from the bed and made his way downstairs.  

The house was silent, it was comforting. No disrupting or boisterous noises. His dad must have gone to work several hours ago, he concluded, after looking at the time. Stiles felt mostly at peace with the silence, until it turned against him. Silence meant no distractions but it also meant he was alone with whatever he was thinking of.  

He leaned against the wall, fuck. What if he was found, what if he was taken back, what if something would happen to his dad, what if, what if,  _what if._ There was no way that would happen, right? Stiles didn't see anyone suspicious on the trains or in the quiet streets of his neighborhood. So there's no way. But there's always some way. Why is there always a way. He clutched his shirt as he slowly sank to the hardwood beneath him. A restrained whine leaving his throat, nowhere is safe.  

 _Why didn't you just stay, everything would've been so much easier if you just stayed._ Stiles drew in a deep gasp. He wanted to be back in Pennsylvania, but he didn't at the same time. He didn't know what he wanted, he didn't know anything.  _This is why you don't make decisions Stiles, you just end up regretting them._ Small blobs formed on the floor where his tears fell, he certainly was regretting his decision. Coming home only made things worse. Stiles felt lost, he held onto the idea that if he came home he would feel free again but he only felt more trapped. Sooner or later he fell asleep, resting against the wall.  

His sleep was disturbed by a hand on his shoulder. Panic filled his head, was he still asleep or was he awake? He felt like insect infested mud was being spread over his skin at the presence of those hands. He wanted them off. Not again, no. He whimpered and curled into the wall, away from the hand, eyes still shut. His body was telling him to protest but his mind was telling him to give in or the consequences would be worse. He uncurled slightly but pushed the hand off of his shoulder with a soft "no." And uncomfortably shifted what he thought was further away from the hand. The hand made a presence again, more firmly this time and Stiles began to whine, "stop." His stomach was doing twists and turns and he felt slightly nauseous. The hand left and Stiles could feel himself breathing again.  

"Stiles, it's me. You're at home. You're okay Stiles."  

 _Nothing is ever okay, since when was_ anything _ok._ Stiles forced himself to open his eyes, he was about to turn and continue to distance himself from the source of those hands, but he noticed the familiar baseboard trim.  Stiles came to a realization; wall, his dad's voice, and he remembered what happened before he fell asleep. He was at home, all the way across the country from Pennsylvania. He slowly blinked awake and peered at his dad who was crouched on the floor beside him.  

"Hey, you alright? I got some dinner," John said with a soft smile.  

A brief moment passed before Stiles replied, "y-yeah, sorry. I just- I kinda just..." Stiles shook his head, and stood, still bracing himself on the wall, his legs felt awkward and cramped. "What'd you get?" 

He looked at the table; a large take out bag sat on it.  

"Chinese take-out," his dad said.  

Stiles nodded once, his throat tightening, and grabbed a plate from a cabinet in the kitchen.  

"Stiles, are you sure you're okay?" 

"yeah, yeah. Of course. Sorry I guess my mind just was being weird." Stiles said absentmindedly as he sat down at the dining table.  

"Do you wanna talk about it or anything? Did someone do something to you before?" 

"I-no, I don’t want to talk about. There's nothing to talk about, nothing happened." 

"Alright, but just know if you ever need to talk, I'm always here. Okay?" 

"Yeah, definitely," Stiles said, and he opened the brown paper bag, reaching inside.  

He pulled out each container, one by one, silently praying that one food wasn't in there. Please, Please,  _please_ say that dad didn't order that, he hoped. And of course, as cliché as it is, he pulled out the last container from the bag, and he hoped his dad couldn't him notice Stiles tighten his grip on the plastic.  

 _Lo Mein._  

Yes, it is kind of stupid how a single type of food could make Stiles want to crush it between his hands and run it over with a steam roller while simultaneously make him want to stay as far away from it as possible, like it was the source for all diseases known to man kind. Now, this was nothing against the food itself, Lo mein was actually quite good,  _was._ He only had to remember to not eat it, at all costs, do. Not. Eat the lo mein.  _You're not allowed to eat it, Stiles._  

He places that on the table, next to all the other food. Then, was the hard part, actually willing himself to put the food into his mouth and swallowing the food.  

Both him and his dad took seats facing each other. As Stiles took the first bite, after his dad, of course, he had to remember he was a huge distance from Pennsylvania. No one was going to barge through the door and yell at him for eating. He was allowed to eat. But he wanted someone to tell him he could, just to have that 'ok' and just to make sure.  

Stiles forced himself to swallow. He wanted to spit it out, it tasted like grey mush in his mouth. He shouldn't be eating.  

"Stiles, don't you want some lo mein, you loved it right?" John asked, after taking some for himself.  

 _Yes,_ "No thanks, not really in the mood right now,"  _or ever._  He watched his dad picking up food from his plate.  

 _Remember, Stiles, you're not allowed to have any, right? Because what kind of boyfriend would you be if you didn't let me have my favorite food?_  

"Yeah, of course," Stiles mumbled, his eyes distant and unfocused, staring at the table in front of him.  

"Hm? Did you say something?" Stiles' dad asked, his brows furrowed together. "Hey, you alright? You've been staring at my plate or zoning out for a few minutes there, are you sure you don’t want any?" 

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm sure, sorry," Stiles quickly replied, blinking a few times and taking a deep breath through his nose. He looked back up to his dad's face and gave a soft smile.  

"Alright, if you say so," and continued to eat.  

The rest of the meal passed on silently. Stiles barely looked at his dad and ate very little.  

Who knows how long it would've gone on. Just as Stiles was starting to think the silence was unbearable, his dad took a long sigh and patted his stomach.  

"Man, I am full, are you done Stiles? If not, take your time," John said as he brought his plate to the sink.  

"Yeah, I'm done. Thanks," Stiles said, and also placed his plate into the sink before making his way towards his room. "I'm gonna head to bed, goodnight." 

"Oh, ok. Goodnight Stiles." 

When Stiles reached his bedroom, he slowly laid down on the mattress, willing himself not to throw up as he pulled the comforter over his head.  

Just as he was about to doze off to sleep he heard a soft tap on his window. Normally it would've been open since it was in the middle of July but his paranoid self had willed Stiles to close them.  

He groaned and wished it wasn't who he thought it was. Stiles rolled out of bed and made his way towards the window, opened the blinds and of course it was him.  _Derek._  

Stiles debated whether to close the blinds and just go back to sleep, or not. But, he didn't want to make Derek and the pack more upset than he had already made them, so he opened the window so Derek could get through.  

"Why are you here," Stiles asked.  

"We heard you were back-," Derek started.  

"If you're here to be mad at me, then you don't have to. I would've been mad at me too-" 

"Stiles, we're not mad at you, we missed you a ton. What happened?" 

"I don't believe you, why would you miss me and nothing happened," Stiles said, avoiding eye contacts.  

"Wha- Of course we would miss you, the pack and myself included care about you, and clearly something happened, Stiles. Please tell me, no matter what it was, we want to help." 

"Nothing, really." Stiles was trying to remember the story he was going to tell them. "Nothing, my phone broke and I didn’t have enough money to buy a new one and I couldn't remember your numbers so I couldn't call." 

Derek heard no blip in Stiles' heartbeat, so there's a possibility he wasn't lying but, Derek still didn’t believe him. "You're lying, Stiles." 

 _He must've caught the lie,_ he thought he kept his heartbeat still, guess not. Derek is probably even more annoyed at Stiles.  

"I-" 

"Stiles, what happened," Derek asked again.  

"Nothing  _happened_ , Derek!" Stiles didn't expect to raise his voice, but he found himself raising it regardless. He didn’t believe him, no one did, they were all just like  _him_.  

"Stiles, please," Derek pressed, he took a careful step towards Stiles.  

"Shut up, nothing happened, I'm fine! Why don’t you believe me," Stiles' voice softened and broke slightly at the end, he wanted to cry. No one believed him, ever.  

"Because your heart has been racing ever since I walked in here," Derek said.  

Stiles opened his mouth to reply but his dad had pushed open the door.  

"Stiles wha-Derek?" John asked, slightly confused. "Why is Stiles yelling?" 

"He won't believe me, nothing happened, Dad. Nothing. I keep telling him that but he won't  _listen,_ "Stiles said, he felt like a toddler telling on another in the playground that pushed him over or something. He looked back at his dad, teardrops silently running down his cheeks, he felt like he was going to pass out. His dad didn't believe him either, Stiles could see it on his face. "You're just like him." 

What stiles said was so quiet, Derek and John weren't even sure if Stiles actually said anything or not.  

"okay, okay, Stiles. We believe you, alright? Why don't you go to bed, we believe you, don't worry," John said softly, crouching beside Stiles who was sitting in the edge of the bed.  

"No, you don't." 

John didn't reply, he only pressed his lips together and stood back up, "I'm going to talk to Derek outside, you can sleep if you want to, okay? I'm going to be right back." 

Stiles did nothing as Derek followed John out of the room.  

"Do you have any ideas of what happened?" Derek asked lowly when he closed Stiles' bedroom door behind him.  

"No, he won't say, he keeps saying nothing happened but I'm a little skeptical." 

"Me too, he told me his phone broke, but that could've actually happened, I didn't hear his heartbeat change." 

"Also was I going insane or did Stiles say something in there?"

"when?"

"after I walked in. I was hoping, maybe with your werewolfy hearing, you might've heard it better." 

Derek thought for a moment, he did hear something but it was a mere whisper, and Derek wasn't sure if Stiles had actually said anything or not.

"he possibly did, but I barely heard it, I don't understand how you would've."

"I didn't hear him, I only saw his lips move slightly."

"Oh, I did make out some of it, I think. Something like 'you're like him' or similar to that, I'm not really sure." 

"Who's 'him'?"

"I'm not sure," was all Derek could supply as an answer. "Do you think he was..." 

Neither John or Derek wanted to think about that possibility, and Derek couldn't bare the thought of having to live through that.

"I-I really hope not. My son-I would absolutely dread it, if that were true," John said with a quavering voice, his eyes began to water at the thought of that happening to Stiles.

"I wouldn't jump to conclusions but it could definitely be a possibility."

"I'm scared for him, Derek, I really am." John said after a moment, "I'm just not sure what to do. " 

"we should at least give him a day and maybe he'll tell us." 

"yeah, but I'm not sure, he seemed pretty persistent on denying anything happened." 

"yeah, you're right." 

A silence spread between both of them.  

Derek recalled all the things Stiles had said, he tried to remember any signs of even the smallest thing. He knew he was over analyzing and pushing too hard for information, but he couldn't help it. The pack and Stiles' dad were all worried. Derek was worried. 

All of the ways that Stiles had reacted and spoke in general were vaguely familiar. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. Derek didn't want to make assumptions yet but he made sure that he was going to keep a careful watch in the future. 

"Does Scott and everyone else know he's back?" John asked.  

"Yeah," Derek scratched the back of his neck. "but, we decided it would've probably been best if only one of us came." 

"Smart." 

Derek just nodded and the stillness made its entrance, once again. But not for long.  

"Um, I should probably go, I don’t want to upset Stiles more and you probably have to sleep," Derek said and he took a few steps towards the stairs.  

"Oh, yeah. Of course, but Derek?" John called as Derek started making his way down the first few steps.  

"Yeah?" He turned back around.  

"next time you're over, can you please just take the front door? We've been over this plenty," John said with a smile.  

"yeah, of course. Sorry. Have a good night Sheriff," Derek said and made his way to the door.  

Stiles tried to listen to the muffled voiced behind the door, but failed. Eventually they stopped and he heard the front door close, Derek must've left. A few moments later his bedroom door was being opened. Stiles was still sat in the same position.  

"You wanna talk or sleep?" John said, peeking his head through the doorway, before fully entering the room at no response.  

"Nothing happened." 

"Okay, why don't you go to bed then, you're probably tired." 

Stiles nodded and pulled the covers over his head for a second time that night.  

"Goodnight Stiles," Stiles only rustled deeper into the blankets and mumbled something incomprehensible into his pillow. John shut off the light and left just a crack of the door open. He padded down the hall to his room so he could also sleep, the past few days had been quite eventful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed the second chapter, constructive criticism is always welcome! 
> 
> ***ALSO i just finished the books Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom(the sequel to Six of Crows) by Leigh Bardugo, and they are amazing books, definitely recommend!! :D***


	3. Chapter 3

The next day went similar to the one before, except with a smaller amount of panic attacks. Stiles also woke up to a damp spot on his pillow, he wasn't sure if it was from him possibly crying in his sleep, or from drool. He hoped it was the latter.  
And, to take his mind off of things and keep it distracted, he decided to tidy up. So while he was cleaning the house, pain shot up Stiles side as his hip ran into the corner of the dining table, he nearly dropped the broom in his hand. "Shit," Stiles groaned as he pressed a hand to his side. Maybe cleaning in the dark wasn't the best idea, he thought. But it was either that or turn on the lights. And he didn't want to use too much electricity. He considered opening the curtains but he didn’t want someone to be stalking outside. He was left with having to deal with stubbing his toes on multiple occasions, thankfully he only ran into the table once.  
Stiles still couldn't bring himself to unpack the boxes in his room. He simply spent many of his hours cleaning or leaning against the cardboard boxes, staring at the ceiling. Derek didn't come at all that day, but Stiles wasn't surprised. He probably would've been more surprised if Derek did come back, Stiles was a mess and understood that Derek didn't want to come back.  
Later that day, when Stiles had nothing else to do he sat at the dining table and stared at the grain in the wood. He came close to falling out of the chair he was sitting in when he heard the front door open. His heart was racing incredibly fast in his chest and he looked at the door, only to realize it was just his dad coming home from work.  
"Hey, Stiles. How was your day?" His dad said, slipping off his shoes.  
Stiles shrugged, "alright."  
John nodded and smiled but then frowned, confused. "And why are the lights off-did you clean the house?" John asked before Stiles could answer his question about the lights.  
"oh, uh, yeah."  
John smiled again, turning on the light, "Looks nice, but don't worry too much about keeping the house clean all the time, I don’t want you over working yourself."  
"Okay," Stiles said as John ruffled his hair.  
"Good, now I'm going to get changed. Do you want to go out for dinner?"  
"oh, sure," Stiles replied softly. He pushed away the voice in his head telling him that he was wasting his dad's money, he should've just made dinner instead. "Or I can make dinner instead, maybe," he suddenly blurted out.  
John turned back around to face Stiles, he smiled softly, "Stiles, it's fine. You already cleaned the house, I don't want you working too much by also cooking."  
"Okay."  
Their conversation ended at that and moments later John came downstairs wearing more casual clothing.  
"stiles, I know you probably don't want me asking this but, what made you come back? And why don't you have a cell phone or any clothes with you."  
Stiles was silent, there was many things he was dreading to encounter when he came back and this question, or any variation of this question, was one of them. He was hoping his dad wouldn't notice, but of course he did. He opened his mouth to speak but just closed it again.  
"My phone broke and I couldn't get a new one. And I was busy until now so I couldn't visit. So, when I finally did have the chance, I didn't really pack, I just kind of boarded a train and came straight here."  
John took a seat in front of stiles at the table, "Tickets on the train from Pennsylvania to California aren’t cheap, how did you have the money to get on a train but not a phone, Stiles? And wouldn’t it be cheaper if you just used your car?"  
Stiles stared at the hardwood floor and didn't respond. He was cornered. Stiles could only shrug.  
"Stiles, what happened?" John knew he was throwing the plan of waiting a few days out the window but he couldn't bear not knowing.  
"Nothing and I lost the keys to my Jeep," Stiles whispered. Well, technically, Stiles didn’t lose his keys, he just had no idea where they were.  
John pressed his lips together, nodded once, and stood from the table. He forced himself to not ask any more questions for now.  
That was also when Stiles realized he'd been wearing the same clothes since he came home, and still hasn’t taken a shower since he left Pennsylvania. Gross.  
"Is it okay if I take a shower?" Stiles asked quietly.  
"Yeah, of course. You don’t have to ask, Stiles."  
Stiles stood and made his way towards the bathroom without making eye contact with his dad.  
Right before he was about to step under the water, he heard a soft knock at the door and almost jumped out of his skin.  
"I'm going to go out and get something real quick. I'll be right back," he heard his dad say.  
"Okay," Stiles called back, and he heard his dad's footsteps walk from the bathroom.  
Stiles stepped into the shower and when he heard his dad leave the driveway he had to choke back a sob. He was so close, he had no more lies or excuses that he could make, the most he could say was nothing happened. Nothing happened, nothing happened. He felt terrible for lying but it was better than telling the truth. What he thought was the truth. What if you made it up, Stiles thought. That's true, what if he made it up. What if he was overreacting. He wasn't sure, he was confused. He felt bad for leaving and he missed Pennsylvania, he missed him. He wanted to go back.  
What if he died, what something happened to him, Stiles began to panic, he had to go back.  
But he didn’t have enough money to go back and he knew his dad would never let him, and most of the pack was out of question so that left him with only one person.  
He wasn't sure if Derek would let him but it's worth a shot. More of a chance than with his dad, he assumed. Though he didn’t want to be a burden and ask for so many things from Derek. Driving from California to Pennsylvania is a long trip. A lot of gas. A lot of food. A lot of time. A lot of time alone in a confined space with one other person. The list of cons to asking were a lot greater than the pros. But the severity of the pros outweighed the cons, in his mind.  
After he finished showering, he went into his room to find plastic bags, filled with what he was assuming were clothes. Stiles guessed he hadn't heard his dad come back. He was glad to be putting on some fresh clothes but at the same time felt bad. Another reason he should’ve stayed in Pennsylvania, pretty much all the clothes that fit him were there.  
He went downstairs and found his dad reading the newspaper.  
“Uh, hey, dad. Thanks for the clothes.”  
John looks up from the paper, “no problem. Do they fit alright?”  
“Yeah, uh I’m gonna head out for a bit. I’ll be right back,” he said, twisting and fidgeting with his fingers. He hoped his dad won’t won’t prevent him from going. Stupid, you’re not a baby anymore Stiles, he thought. But there was always that possibility.  
“Ok, be back soon. Where are you going?”  
“Oh, um, I-I need to ask Derek about something.” Stiles decided, Derek maybe will find some way to get him to Pennsylvania…all the way across the US. Okay, maybe it was a long shot. But it was worth a life. A very important one at that.  
Stiles’ dad looked at him skeptically, “…and how do you think you’re supposed to get there?”  
“Oh…right.”  
“If it’s really that urgent, I can just drive you there Stiles.”  
Another favor. Stiles, why don’t you make a list. Then you have a way to keep track of all the things you owe everyone.  
“Thanks, I actually don’t need to go that much. It’s fine,” Stiles said, his voice rushed. And he started to make his way back up the stairs.  
“No, really Stiles. I’m okay with driving you. It’s only like a fifteen minute drive.”  
Yeah, fifteen minutes of his time wasted for a silly task. Stiles wanted to tell his subconscious to shut up, though he also knew it was the truth.  
“Oh, okay…thanks,” he mumbled. He concluded that arguing more would only be more of a burden.  
“Alrighty,” John stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. Stiles followed suit.  
The ride there was completely silent. Only the soft hum of the car and sound of other cars passing bye could be heard. Stiles knee was bouncing rapidly and he was close to asking his dad to turn around and bring him back home. But getting back to Pennsylvania was more important than some anxiety.  
They pulled up into the parking lot of the apartment building. Now that he thought about it, Stiles had only seen Derek’s new apartment once or twice. He bought it around the time Stiles was packing for college.  
The apartment wasn’t the only thing that also changed about Derek that year. Stiles had noticed that Derek’s lack of empathy, or any emotion other than anger or disinterest, had been a lot greater when he first met Derek, than many of the later years that followed.  
“Alright kiddo. Here we are. Let me know if anything happens, assuming you could probably use Derek’s phone if needed,” John said, giving Stiles a pat on the shoulder and unlocking the door.  
Stiles gave a quick, single nod. He couldn’t find any words. There are so many things he should’ve said but didn’t, he simply stepped out of the car and right before he thought his dad was going to leave, John rolled down the window.  
“By the way the number is 514,” he said, before rolling the window back up and began to pull out of the parking lot. Stiles gave a small wave with a tight smile as he watched his dad drive onto the road.  
Number? What does he mean num-oh, apartment number. Good job stiles.  
He made his way into the building. It looked quiet nice, only five floors but pretty long. And just like everything else he’s seen so far since he came back, the lobby looked the same as it did from the few times he did go there.  
Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels as he waited for the elevator to arrive. He still wasn’t sure if he really wanted to do this.  
He heard the familiar ding of the elevator, then stepped inside. Stiles looked at the buttons of the wall and looked for 514. Which wasn’t that hard actually. There were five floors, not counting the lobby, which he was assuming what the first number showed. And 20 units on each floor, which he also assumed the following pair of numbers showed.  
The elevator was eerily quiet and Stiles could hear his heart start to race. He was pretty much completely past everything that happened like the nogitsune, and the nemeton, but he still found himself getting paranoid in these kinda of situations. He feared of something suddenly appearing, or the elevator breaking. But before he could get too panicked, the doors opened and he stepped into the fifth floor.  
When he reached the 14th apartment, he hesitated before he knocked. What if Derek wasn’t there, what if the whole pack was there. Though, right as he was going to knock, the door swung open, Derek standing at the door way and Stiles still with his hand in the air.  
“Stiles?” Derek asked cautiously.  
“Oh, yeah. Derek. Uh, hey,” Stiles said awkwardly and itched the back of his head with the hand that was once in the air.  
“Is there something you need?”  
“Yeah, yeah. Uh yeah, I was just about to ask you about it, um-.”  
“Stiles, why don’t you come inside.”  
“Oh, sure. Thanks.”  
Derek stepped from the doorway and closed it behind Stiles after he entered. His laptop was still on, and placed on the coffee table, a cup of tea, in the middle of being drunken, sat next to it.  
“I-I was gonna ask if,” Stiles began but he felt the words get caught in his throat. “If-if you could,” he took a shaky breath and couldn’t find himself to finish. This was a bad idea.  
He sat taking shallow breaths for several moments on the verge of a panic attack before being able to speak again.  
“Stiles, Stiles. Breathe. What do you want to say?” Derek said in a soft voice as he sat Stiles down onto one of the chairs near the coffee table.  
“Can you…You know, never mind. It’s fine. Can I call my dad to get me, it’s fine. I don’t even know why I decided it would be a good idea to come here. Sorry, I’m just gonna go-“  
“Stiles, it’s alright, just say it, it’ll be okay.”  
Stiles tapped his knuckles on his shaking knee while taking several shallow breaths.  
“I need-I need to go to,” he took another shaky inhale, “I need to go to Pennsylvania.”  
Derek was confused, “you just came from there, why would you need to go back?” Stiles started to seem unfocused and disconnected from where he was sitting. “Stiles, hey. Talk to me, why do you need to go back to Pennsylvania?”  
“I just need to, I have to find a way to get back to Pennsylvania.”  
“Stiles you have to tell me why. I’m not going to let you go back to Pennsylvania without one of us knowing what’s going to happen if you go back.”  
“I can’t say, I just have to go back.”  
“Stiles”  
“Really, I can’t. I don’t want to,” stiles said, his eyes avoiding eye contact and staring at random objects around the room.  
“Why can’t you or why don’t you want to say why?”  
“I just, I have to go.”  
“Stiles, you don’t. Whatever or whoever is there, is probably best that you don’t go back for it or them.”  
“No. It’s fine. Can I just go please?”  
"No, I won't let you until you say why, otherwise, you're not going."  
Uncertainty crossed Stiles' face.  
"Well?" Derek asked.  
Stiles looked at the ground and shrugged. "Why can't I just go?"  
"Because I care about you, your dad cares about you, the pack cares about you. There are so many people who are glad you're back and wouldn't want you to go back to a bad situation."  
Stiles didn’t reply. Silence spread between them.  
"Fine," He said sharply, I'll just find another way.  
"Okay, just remember that we do care, Stiles," Derek said in a soft voice.  
Stiles nodded sharply and stood. "Can I call my dad?"  
"Sure, I can drop you off if you want?"  
"It's fine, I can just ask my dad to come get me."  
Derek nodded and handed Stiles his phone. He mumbled a 'thanks' before dialing the number.  
\--  
As soon as Stiles left, Derek called Scott.  
"Hey, Derek, what's up? I hope you're not being maimed or something." Scott answered with a slight chuckle.  
"No, thankfully. But it's about Stiles."  
"Yeah, what about him, is he alright?"  
"Um, I'm not so sure." Derek could practically see Scott's expression fall, "I'm not sure if you'll know this or not but, was Stiles seeing anybody or meet anyone while he was in Pennsylvania?"  
"Mm, he didn't mention any close friends he made while he was there but he did mention a boyfriend."  
Derek hummed and thought, "Oh, what did he say about him?"  
Scott paused for a moment before answering, "Uh, he said some stuff of how he met him, his name is Emmet by the way. Stiles was basically head over heels for this guy. He seemed really happy being with him and he sounded pretty cool. I think Stiles also said he really likes Chinese food, which, quote unquote, 'is a plus' as said by Stiles. Also, how they had similar tastes in music and such."  
"have you heard anything recently?"  
"Uh actually no, the last time I heard from Stiles before he came back was a few years ago, and every time I tried to call him it said the number was out of service or something."  
"That's odd."  
"yeah, it is, I'm kinda worried. Did you find out anything from him?" Scott asked, it seemed like Scott was a step ahead and had already suspected something was wrong.  
"No, he just came over and asked, actually more like begged, to go back to Pennsylvania."  
"oh, why?"  
"Not sure, that's why I called you to see if you knew anything."  
"hm, do you think it could be Emmet, maybe he's sick or something?"  
"You're right. Do you think I should let him go?"  
"I would wait a little bit to make sure everything is okay."  
Derek breathed in and ran a hand over his face, "Yeah, you're right. But I think it would be a good idea to hold a pack meeting or something, may with Stiles."  
"Are you sure that would be an okay move? Cause from what you just said he doesn't sound too great." Scott says.  
"I think that's just another reason we should bring Stiles, he is a part of the pack, so he is allowed to come to pack meetings. Plus, it's the best way to get the rest of the pack together at one time with Stiles."  
"true. Alright, when do you want to have it though?"  
"As soon as possible preferably," Derek answered.  
"Ok, I'll discuss it with everyone else and see when we can meet and I'll get back to you."  
"Alright, see you later Scott."  
"yup," Scott says, and hung up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING*** GRAPHIC NON-CON SCENE! PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH TOPICS AND THEMES SUCH AS THIS!!!

"Okay, I think almost everyone is here, we're just waiting on Lydia, and Stiles."  
"Wait, Stiles is gonna be here?" Erica asked excitingly.  
"Yeah, but if he actually arrives," Derek said grimly.  
The door opened and everyone's head went to the front door, but only Lydia walked through. The group let out a disappointed breath.  
Lydia, who walked in with a pretty high level of optimism, frowned. "What?"  
"nothing," Isaac sighed.  
"What? Not happy about my arrival or something?"  
"no, we just thought you were Stiles," Erica mumbled.  
"Oh...wait he isn't here yet?"  
"Wait she knew and the rest of us didn't?" Isaac exclaimed, Scott only shrugged in response.  
"Obviously I knew, also he disappears pretty much for like three-four years and he finally comes back and he can't even make it on time to a pack meeting?"  
"Well then again, you were also late?" Isaac piped in.  
Lydia let out a huff and sat down on the couch beside Allison, "well true but..."  
At that moment the door opened again and Stiles walked through the opening, "Hey guys."  
"Stiles!!" Everyone exclaimed. They all stand and gather around Stiles, clearly excited out of their minds. Though Lydia, Scott and Derek knew something wasn't right. Something was definitely off. He didn't make eye contact as he greeted the pack and his eyes were glazed over looking past the people in front of him but not particularly focused on anything. Regardless, Lydia and Scott stood to give their friend a hug.  
"It's so great to see you again, what happened?" Isaac asked, grasping Stiles' hands.  
"Nothin' much, I lost my phone and didn't have enough to get a new one and no time. I was so busy man," Stiles laughed.  
"Aw, I'm sure we can try to get you a new one," Isaac exclaimed.  
"Oh, no, no. I'm fine. You don’t have to."  
"are you sure? Cause then we can keep in contact a lot easier and stuff," Allison said.  
"No, really. You guys don’t have to, I can't ask for that much."  
"Alright, if you say so," Isaac said.  
"Hey stiles," Lydia said approaching Stiles.  
Stiles turned and took a moment, his eyed widened for a second before both of them embraced tightly. Lydia began to cry.  
"We missed you so much."  
"me too," Stiles said softly.  
They pulled away from each other after a few more exchanges and Lydia getting upset over not being able to talk to stiles in forever, Stiles turned to face Scott but before either of them even said anything they pulled into a hug.  
"Hi Scott, glad to be back."  
Scott nodded, "I'm so glad you're back. I have so much to tell you man."  
"heh, yeah. Me too."  
After all of them got situated they settled onto the couches, chairs or floor of Derek's living room. Stiles, despite being here a few days ago, stared at the sculpture placed on the thin table against the wall.  
“So stiles, what brought you back?” Erica asked.  
Stiles shrugged and stared at the rug beneath him. “Seeing you guys I guess, finally got the chance.”  
“I see,” she responded. “Must’ve been awfully busy if you couldn’t come for so many years.”  
“Yeah, I guess. A lotta work and stuff. Sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” Stiles said, his voice getting softer. No one had to be a werewolf to sense the guilt in his voice.  
“Oh no, it’s fine. We’re glad you’re here now at least,” Erica said smiling warmly.  
For the rest of the meeting they updated each other, though mainly stiles, on what’s happened recently. Everyone had a relatively good time. Derek stayed pretty quiet, as always, though for a moment everything seemed alright to them.  
Sooner or later, it began to get dark and they dismissed themselves to leave. The last ones to leave are Scott, Lydia and of course Derek and stiles. They decided to stay longer.  
“Stiles are you sure everything is ok? You seem a little off,” Lydia admits, placing a hand on Stiles’ knee.  
“What? Really? How so? I feel fine,” Stiles says.  
“I don’t know, you just seem drained, distracted,” she says.  
“Oh…really?” Stiles says with a light laugh.  
“Yeah man, you sure you’re okay?” Scott continues.  
Stiles nods and gives them both a comforting smile to reassure them.  
They all talk softly among themselves, and curl up besides one another. Grateful for the touch and wholeness the three for possibly four of them were longing for. Stiles bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling everything at this moment.  
It isn’t until late into the night when they all leave Derek’a apartment. Scott drives stiles home and they laugh and talk on the way there. Like those years without stiles never existed.  
When they pull up to Stiles’ house, they both climb out of the car, Scott tears up a bit and pulls Stiles into another embrace.  
“I’m really glad you’re back,” he says, sniffling.  
Stiles nods into Scott’s shoulder, “me too,” he whispers back.  
Stiles waves as Scott pulls out of his driveway then enters his home. When he opens the door, his dad is standing at the sink, putting away some dishes. He walks over and Stiles rests his forehead on his dad’s shoulder.  
John doesn’t realize that Stiles is crying until the feels the wet spot seep through his shirt and onto his skin. He turns and takes Stiles in his arms as he begins to quietly sniffle. They slowly turn to held back sobs and John makes Stiles look at him.  
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong kiddo? Did something happen at the meeting?” John asks, taking his sons face gently in his hands.  
Stiles shakes his head and he only cries harder and leans into john more.  
“I’m so stupid, Dad. I’m so-I” he hiccups and breaks down.  
“Shh, no you’re not. Talk to me, what happened?”  
Stiles shakes his head, “I-Dad I’m so confused.”  
“Stiles, what are you confused about? What happened?”  
“I don’t- I don’t, Dad,” Stiles becomes a blubbering mess. Balling and unbaling his dad’s shirt in his hands.  
“Stiles you need to talk to me so I can help you, what happened?” John says, more urgently this time.  
“I don’t know, Dad. I do but I don’t and I just.” He whines and puts his head back on John’s shoulder.  
“Shh, shh. Take a deep breath kiddo. Breathe, talk to me. Is it about the pack?” John comforts, rubbing a hand on Stiles’ back.  
Stiles shakes his head.  
“Is it about Pennsylvania?”  
Stiles presses his face harder into Johns shoulder, pauses for a moment and gives a weak nod. John pulls back and looks stiles in the eyes.  
“What happened? Did you not like it? Someone not treating you right?”  
Stiles shrugged, “I don’t know.”  
“Explain it the best you can. I want to help you stiles,” john reassured.  
Stiles opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. The words were caught in his throat. He took a deep breath in through his nose. “I don’t know”  
“Don’t know what?”  
“Anything” he whispers, “I don’t know how to start.”  
“Start anywhere. Start at the beginning.”  
Stiles shakes his head.  
“It doesn’t seem like you’ll be able to explain anything today, and that’s totally okay. Take your time. Get some rest kiddo.” John says, rubbing Stiles’ shoulders. “We can discuss this sometime tomorrow morning, okay?”  
Stiles nods and goes upstairs.  
-  
“Stiles wanna do it tonight?” Emmet asks, smirking, running his hands up stiles’ sides.  
Stiles wriggles a bit away from the touch. “Not today, emmet. I’m not really feeling it. Maybe tomorrow?”  
Emmet pouts, “you’re never in the mood. Please?”  
“No, I don’t really wanna right now,” Stiles says, grabbing Emmet’s hands.  
“Pretty please?” Emmet bats his eyelashes and moves closer to Stiles.  
“No Emmet, I’m being serious.”  
“Stiles, you’re such a buzzkill, why won’t you let me enjoy myself?” Emmet says, throwing a leg over Stiles’ lap, straddling him.  
“Because I’m not enjoying it,” stiles says, attempting to push Emmet away.  
“Everything is always about you isn’t it? Why don’t you enjoy it? Am I not a good boyfriend?”  
“No that’s not what I-“  
“You’ll enjoy it, I promise,” Emmet says, unbuttoning Stiles’ jeans.  
“Emmet stop” Stiles says firmly.  
“But why? Just give me a chance and you’ll eventually be into it. You always are Stiles,” Emmet says, now rubbing a hand over the fabric of Stiles’ boxers.  
“Emmet please stop, I don’t want this,” Stiles pushes at Emmet with more force.  
“But you’re already enjoying it, see?” Emmet looks down at Stiles’ hardening dick.  
“Emmet,” Stiles says, voice restrained, his breaths becoming heavier.  
Emmet pushes the band of Stiles underwear down, exposing the tip of his cock.  
“See it’s all hard, so good.” Emmet coos, putting a hand into Stiles’ boxers, rubbing at Stiles. “So pretty for me.”  
“Emmet, please stop,” Stiles breathes. Trying to move away from Emmet but unable to because of the back of the couch causing Stiles to be trapped between Emmet and the cushions behind him.  
Emmet laughs and takes his hand off of Stiles dick only to use both hands to pull down Stiles boxers and jeans down his legs farther.  
“If you really want me to stop why don’t you just kick me, or punch me, I don’t have you tied up or anything,” Emmet says. Though, Stiles would never do that, and Emmet knows. He knows Stiles would never want to hurt him. “Because if you really didn’t want it that’s what you’d be doing right?”  
He wraps his hand fully around Stiles shaft and begins to stoke up and down.  
Tears well up in Stiles’ eyes, he doesn’t want this but his body responds regardless. Pre-cum beads at the tip and Emmet runs his thumb over the slit. “You’re reacting so well, baby. I don’t know why you’re saying you don’t want this.”  
“Emmet,” Stiles says, his voice cracking.  
“Yes baby?” Emmet asks, looking up at him while continuing to stroke Stiles’ dick.  
“Stop, please,” Stiles pleads, a few stray tears leaving his eyes.  
“But you’re enjoying it.”  
“I-Im not Emmet,” Stiles says weakly.  
Emmet doesn’t respond and continues to touch Stiles. He climbs onto Stiles lap and uses his free hand to hold Stiles’ hand. “It’ll be okay baby, you’ll like it soon enough.”  
Stiles bites his bottom lip between his teeth and takes in a shaky breath. He stares down at Emmet’s fist around him and he pushes his hands hard against Emmet’s arms but Emmet doesn’t budge. Stiles wouldn’t be able to push him anyway. Despite Stiles being a few inches taller than him, Emmet is definitely stronger and could easily resist Stiles’ weaker and thinner, more twig-like complexion.  
Emmet’s pace quickens and Stiles can feel himself getting harder. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want his hands on him. A few stray tears dribble down his face when he blinks, dripping onto his abdomen where he is staring.  
He can see the outline of his boyfriend’s hard cock through his pants. Stiles squirms and makes another attempt to back away a little from Emmet. Trying to get the point across that he doesn’t want this at all.  
“Emmet,” Stiles begs, strengthening his grip on Emmet’s upper arm. His nails dig into the soft flesh. “Emmet stop.”  
“You’re so close though Stiles. I can tell,” Emmet mutters. “Just relax, enjoy it.”  
Stiles goes silent. He is close. Not on the brink but he can feel himself getting there. He doesn’t want to come. He doesn’t want to prove Emmet right. He whimpers softly and shudders.  
Emmet grips him tighter, twists his hand lightly, presses his forehead to Stiles’ and everything inside Stiles screams no, no, no, no, no but the rest of his body reacts and one of his hands has dropped from Emmet’s arms and is gripping the fabric of the couch. His head tilt slightly back and his eyes flutter shut just a little bit. And he bites back an unwanted moan when he feels himself about to release.  
“Close baby?” Emmet asks, looking into Stiles’ watery, glossy eyes. Like a wolf stalking its prey, he smirks just a little bit and a final tightening grip and hard stroke of his dick, Stiles is coming onto Emmet’s hand and staring into Stiles’ eyes before they squeeze shut and he lets out a single breathy and broken moan. Teardrops leak out and run down his cheeks as Emmet places ghosting kisses onto the corner of Stiles’ mouth.  
Stiles closes his eyes and tries to comprehend what just happened but the next time he opens his eyes again he’s in his childhood bed. He feels the wetness on his face and he’s the only one in the room.  
He takes a couple shaky breaths to try and calm himself down. It was only a dream.  
Though more like a memory.  
He takes a few more shallow breaths before settling and stares at the darkened ceiling. Not knowing what time it is, he drifts back to sleep.  
When he wakes again the next morning, he's pretty much completely forgotten the dream. Though, moments later when he's fully awake it slips into his mind and he tries to shake the thought from his head.  
He changes the minute he gets out of bed, the clothing feeling grimy and invasive on his skin. Stiles would take a shower but he's far too exhausted.  
He goes downstairs and finds his dad making toast in the kitchen. John notices him when he's reaching to the fridge, grabbing the carton of orange juice.  
"Mornin' kiddo, how'd you sleep?" John asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee.  
Stiles shrugs, "slept alright." Not mentioning the flashback-y dream he had.  
"that's good, any plans for today?"  
"I might have lunch with Scott or something," Stiles replies, his voice monotone.  
"That's good, I'm glad you're getting out the house a little bit," John says.  
"Yeah."  
"Okay, I gotta get to the station in a few, take care of yourself, okay son?" John says, ruffling Stiles' hair.  
"Sure, dad. You too."  
Within ten minutes John is heading out the door, leaving Stiles' alone in the house.  
He stares blankly at the plate of food in front of him. He doesn’t taste anything while he’s chewing it, it’s odd. Everything feels odd and disconnected. Dulled out and numbed. Where is he again…?  
The sound of the doorbell startled him and he jumps in his seat. Not bothering with the rest of his breakfast, he places down his fork to get the door.  
Of course when he opens the door, Scott is standing on the other side of the screen.  
Stiles opens the door wider to let Scott in.  
“Hey, what’s up?” Stiles asks.  
“Nothin much, I was wondering if you wanted to like drive around a bit or something. Catch up a little?” Scott offers.  
“Oh. Uh, yeah sure,” Stiles stutters, “let me just clean this up,” he says as he picks up the plate from the table. “Where were you planning on going?”  
Scott shrugs, “not entirely sure. I was thinking just some places we haven’t been in a while and then we could probably grab something for lunch.”  
“Yeah, I’m up for it. I don’t have anything to do today…” he contemplates. “Or ever,” he adds on under his breath.  
“Great,” Scott says, smiling.  
“I’ll be ready in about five,” Stiles confirms.  
“Okay, I don’t mind waiting man.”  
Stiles gives a single sharp nod before heading down the hall to get ready.  
Five minutes later he walks back down the stairs in different clothing and hair that looks a little less like a bed head.  
“Alright, lets go,” Scott says.  
Stiles locks the door behind him with the new house key his dad recently gave him.  
They both climb into the car and turn on the radio before Scott pulls out of the driveway and onto the road.  
Scott and stiles are silent for a moment before any conversation starts but Stiles, like usual, is the one to break the silence.  
“Dude, I’m surprised you’re still here. Weren’t you gonna go to college too?” Stiles asks  
“Yeah, I was but decided to stay here and help out with the lacrosse team a bit and stuff.”  
“Ah, how’d that going?”  
“Pretty well, assistant coach currently. Lotta good players”  
“Finstock still the coach?”  
“Yup, encouraging as always too,” Scott says with a laugh.  
“Damn, still? I’m surprised,” Stiles says. He smiles at the fond memories of high school. Being able to see the people he cared about every day.  
“I know right?” Scott smiles, clearly enjoying this time together. “How about you? How did studies and stuff go?”  
“Eh, interesting. Of course lots of work and shit but ya know. Same old stuff,” Stiles shrugs.  
Scott nods in response. They pull into the parking lot of a strip mall. Stiles wasn’t sure this still exists.  
“Dude I can’t believe you brought me here,” Stiles says, chuckling.  
“Of course I had to, blew like all out money here.”  
“We really only went to one store.”  
“Still blew all our money.”  
“Point.”  
They walk into a small video game store. Despite being a small store, they still have everything from the friggin’ Atari to the Xbox one. Definitely a wide range, Stiles has to admit.  
Also, next door to this store they have a comic book store where one side, they have isles upon isles of comics and graphic novels. And the other side selling things like Pokémon and Magic cards and Warhammer sets. Along with, tables in the back for people to meet or play tabletop games. Throughout the store they sell several other collectibles.  
Scott and Stiles both feel the nostalgia when they enter the store. Yup, so much money spent here.  
They spend the next half hour browsing everything even if they don’t have the console for it. They’re both very tempted to buy many things from this store but they don’t. They resist though when they exit the store, Stiles is a little more temped to stay in Beacon Hills. So one day Stiles can actually buy things from that place and put it to good use with Scott and maybe a few other members of the pack.  
The rest of the day is spent similarly to this, visiting places they haven’t been to in years and almost or have forgotten about.  
Of course, for lunch they stop by Stiles’ favorite restaurant of all time. They order the same thing, except Scott doesn’t order curly fries, as usual. And as usual, Stiles is appalled that he is able to resist.  
It nears one o’clock by the time their fingers are covered in grease and other sauces, and their plates are cleared, both stomachs full and satisfied.  
“Any other destinations you got?” Stiles asks as they leave the building.  
“Nah, sorry man. Unless you have any ideas?” Scott says, disappointed.  
“I dunno, I think we covered about all the major spots,” Stiles shrugs. He smiles and laughs lightly, “that was fun, thanks for dragging me out of the house for this.”  
“No problem, anytime dude,” Scott laughs.  
The ride back to Stiles’ house is relatively quiet, except for the occasional speaking here and there. Though, it’s not a bad quiet, music from Scott’s playlist plays throughout the car and they both hum or bob their heads along to it. When they reach their destination, just before Stiles reaches his front steps, Scott rolls down the window and yells over to him.  
“Hey, if you ever need anything, let me know. I’ll be happy to help,” Scott says, with a genuine smile and a slight tinge of what Stiles thinks is sympathy.  
Stiles smiles back and thanks him, then enters his house as Scott pulls out of his driveway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back y’all. Enjoy this chapter written at 2 am. The usual.

“Hey dad, I’m back,” Stiles says aimlessly.  
There’s no answer. Stiles takes a deep breath and looks around the house. He goes upstairs to see if he could be there.  
“Dad?” Stiles says.  
Still no answer.   
Stiles stomach does weird flips and his chest tightens like a knot pulling tighter as tighter. He searches the house again, “dad?”  
Of course, he could always just be at work or running an errand but there’s always a possibility of everything. Or something happened to his dad. He was taken, thrown over a shoulder and brought to who knows where. He does meaningless housework for a bit before ending up unable to do anything else. He sits down onto the couch, back straight, tense. He doesn't move, barely even blinks. And zones out, trying to think of something other than what could've happened to his dad. The blank television screen in front of him begins to blur.  
"I'm seeing my dad, Emmet. I'm going, and you can't stop me," Stiles huffed.  
Emmet just stared back at Stiles, taking a deep breath in through his nose.  
"I don't even understand why you won't let me visit him," Stiles said. Increasingly getting more upset as the seconds passed. "He's my fucking dad, I know you get jealous and shit but it's my dad for god's sake! Are you worried about me getting with my dad? Cause that’s a little far."  
"It's not that," Emmet muttered.  
"then what is it?" Stiles demanded. "Why are you so against me seeing the only family member I'm close to, heck, the only family member I fucking know that’s not dead!"  
"It's because that's where everyone else is," Emmet snapped.  
“What?” Stiles scoffed.  
“It’s because,” Emmet paused and took a breath. “That’s where everyone else is, and if you go back there, you’ll see everyone and ignore me, like always. You always just forget me like I’m useless when you’re around them!”  
“What?!” Stiles exclaimed. “I do not do that, I talk to you everyday, and I’m always with you and plus you’ve never been there and I haven’t seen them since I met you so why are you just assuming these things!”  
“I’m not! Every time you meet someone or go to hang out with someone you always ignore me and I question whether you actually love me or not!” Emmet cried.  
“That’s because I’m allowed to have a life, and have friends, Emmet!” Stiles said. “and I’m not ignoring you, I’m sorry that I made you think that. I don’t want to. I love you Emmet, so much. I’ll promise to give you more time in the future, but I want to have friends still, okay?” Stiles said, his voice softening.  
“I know, but I’m still not sure about…everything, I don’t know. God I’m so…” Emmet murmured, Stiles noticed the slight cracking in his speech.  
“Sure about what?” Stiles said, stepping closer to Emmet, placing a hand on his arm.  
“Do you still love me, Stiles?” Emmet asked, his eyes watery.  
“W-what? Emmet what are you saying, of course I do,” Stiles said, guilt filling his gut. “I’m sorry that I made you think differently. Don’t ever doubt that I love you.”  
Emmet nodded and a few tears dropped down his face.  
“I understand your worry, but this is my family. I haven’t seen him in a while,” Stiles said. He placed his hands on Emmet’s sides, bringing him closer, so Emmet’s head rested on Stiles shoulder. “But, would it make you feel better if I didn’t go?”  
Emmet nodded and wrapped his arms around Stiles torso.  
“Okay, that’s alright. I don’t want you to worry,” Stiles said. He placed a soft kiss onto Emmet’s temple and ran his fingers at the hairs on the nape of his neck.  
Stiles whines through his clenched teeth, he can’t imagine what Emmet would be thinking right now. His breath hitches at the thought of anything happening to Emmet. It pulls at his ankles, begging him to go back to Pennsylvania. He wishes he could call but he doesn’t know Emmet’s number. He puts his head between his arms and curls up on his side on the couch.  
Just like every other day, John comes home to Stiles curled up and asleep somewhere, today being the couch, he wakes him up and asks him if everything is alright, Stiles disregards his dad’s worry and changes the subject. John follows suit and doesn’t question anything more.  
-  
Thus the cycle begins, Stiles waking up every day to the sinking feeling of an empty house, cleans, cooks, paces and sleeps to pass the time. Scott and Derek passed through maybe once or twice, just to check on him and how he's doing. But, with Scott busy with helping the animals and Deaton, along with assistant coaching on the side, Scott has rarely any free time on his hands, so Stiles barely goes out of the house, only stepping outside the front door before retreating back inside with the fear of someone watching from around the corner. He must've just gotten lucky on the day him and Scott went out to town.  
Stiles sighs as he stirs a pot of tomato sauce on the stove, he's been bored for eternity, with only flashbacks to keep him company, and usually not good company at that.  
He's just about ready to turn of the stove when the doorbell rings. He cuts the gas regardless then pads over to the door, opening it without hesitation, his head's been too bleary lately to worry too much about who he opens the door too.  
Outside stands Lydia, Stiles stands for a few seconds too long before Lydia is tilting her head to the side, "well, aren't you going to let me in?" Lydia says, and Stiles shakes himself from his silence.  
"Oh, yeah, sorry," Stiles says, stepping to the side so Lydia can enter the house, "come on in."  
Stiles closes the door behind her then follows her to the kitchen, where the warm sauce and cooling pasta are still sitting on the counter.  
"Surprised to see me here?" Lydia teases, Stiles hoped she wouldn't be able to see through him but turns out she can like he’s glass.  
"A little, usually when I open the door it's Derek or Scott?" Stiles says with a light laugh, pulling out two bowls from a cabinet. "You want some? I was just about to eat lunch.”  
"Nah, I'm okay, just ate," Lydia says, waving him off, "So, Derek, huh," she rests her chin onto her hand, contemplating.  
"What? What about him?" Stiles asks, confused as he puts one of the bowls back onto the shelf.  
"Oh, nothing," Lydia says with a slight smirk. Now Stiles is really confused.  
"So, what brings you here?" Stiles asks.  
"not much, just wanted to talk to you, maybe go out for a bit, but from your current attire you are clearly not prepared for that." Lydia says, gesturing to Stiles' grey shirt and worn out batman pajamas that Stiles dug out one day after going through some boxes.  
"Hey, I like just woke up," Stiles protests, huffing.  
"It's literally 1:00 Stiles," Lydia retaliates.  
"okay maybe I didn’t just wake up, but it's not like I was planning on going anywhere," Stiles mumbles. He places his bowl of spaghetti onto the table and sits in front of Lydia.  
"Well, now you do. So, hurry up and get dressed cause we’re going shopping,” Lydia says, she claps her hands together, “chop chop!”  
“Wait-wait we’re what?” Stiles sputters, the mention of doing something as casual as shopping catches him off guard. He half expected Lydia to sit down and make him talk about his feelings and shit, though now he realizes that’s a much more Allison thing to do.  
He hurriedly finishes his lunch, wanting to do anything but keep Lydia waiting. She's still just a tad terrifying when she's impatient.  
“I’m gonna go change,” Stiles states, then rushes up the stairs after putting his bowl in the sink.  
“Yeah, you better!” He hears Lydia yell after him.  
Stiles hastily decides on jeans, a grey t-shirt and a red flannel. The usual.  
He bounds down the stairs and finds Lydia, arms crossed over her chest, inspecting her manicured nails, already standing near the front door.  
“Ready?” She asks as she looks up towards stiles.  
“Yeah,” Stiles says, smiling about to open the door but before he can even graze the doorknob Lydia stop him.  
She looks him up and down, “I’m not surprised, you haven’t changed a bit,” she states before opening the door herself.  
Ha, if only she knew.  
They both climb into Lydia’s car and she starts the engine. They pull out of the driveway, away from the box that Stiles remined in for days.  
"How was college?" Lydia asks, interrupting the silence in the car.  
"good," Stiles answers shortly. "Interesting, learned a lot of different stuff."  
"Nice, if only you had those skills while we dealt with all our supernatural stuff. Not saying you weren't good before, because like holy shit you were amazing back then, but I can't even imagine how great you are at all that now."  
"yeah..." Stiles replies, realizing the truth in her statement. He could've been a lot more useful.  
Stiles doesn't bother to elaborate, they ride in silence for another ten minutes.  
"Do you want me to pay you back?" Stiles blurts. He knows her answer will most likely be no but he just wants to make sure.  
"No, Stiles. Of course not, since when did I ever make you pay when I go shopping with you?"  
"never," he mumbles.  
"exactly, I'll be alright Stiles," Lydia confirms, giving him a soft grin then turns back to face the road.  
"right, yeah, sorry. I just...I just wanted to make sure..." Stiles mumbles. He's not sure whether or not Lydia heard.  
They spend the next few minutes talking about mundane topics. There are some moments where neither one of them says a thing, Stiles stares out the window, taking in the blurring backgrounds and the hum of the car, Lydia only looks straight, driving silently.  
"You know, I take back what I said earlier," Lydia states.  
Stiles is confused, "what?"  
"You have changed," Lydia says, not turning her head to face him.  
"...oh..." Is the only thing Stiles can reply, "People change I guess."  
"Yeah, but I never expected..." Lydia says, shrugging. "This just isn't... you're just different, Stiles. As in like, I know your self-esteem wasn't the greatest before, but this...this is way different," Her content smile turns to a frown. She finally looks at Stiles. "What did they do?"  
"Wh-what?" Stiles asks.  
"What did they do?" Lydia repeats.  
"I don’t- I don’t know what you mean," Stiles mutters, breaking eye contact with her.  
"You know exactly what I mean. Now fess up because you are the goddamn sun to me and I know something happened and I'm worried about you Stiles," Lydia says, her voice firm to keep it from wavering.  
Stiles stares down at his hands. By now he's become closer to Lydia than he is to Scott. He feels bad thinking this since Scott has been a close friend since… since, well forever, but there's something about Lydia that makes him feel like he can trust her with anything. He knows she wouldn't judge or tell a soul if you told her not to.  
She takes off her seatbelt to face him, he hadn't noticed that they parked.  
"My lips are sealed, Stiles," She confirms, providing him a single nod and a reassuring smile.  
Stiles takes a shuddering breath before looking down again. "I don't even know how to start," He says, he can feel his voice begin to reach the verge of breaking.  
"Start from the beginning, take it slow Stiles," She says softly.  
He breathes, thinks. Contemplates. Moments of silence unfurl longer and longer. Stiles doesn't think there'll ever be a time when he knows what to say. He continues thinking and taking slow breaths for a few more minutes before he speaks up again.  
"I-I don't," Stiles feels like he's suffocating. He watches a tear drip onto his hands. He hasn't even said anything and he's already crying.  
"Was it school?" Lydia offers, assuming it's easier for him to answer questions than have to explain for himself.  
Stiles shakes his head.  
"So it wasn't stress or classes or anything like that?"  
Stiles shakes his head again.  
Lydia is silent for a moment.  
"Was it a person?" Lydia provides again.  
He pauses. _Was it?_  
"Stiles?" She says gently. Lydia places her hand on the top of the center console, less than inches from reaching Stiles. She's wearing rings on her fingers, on her index and middle finger. One with a single small stone, a mix of browns and burnt oranges. The ones on her middle finger are simple gold bands, matching the color of the setting on the ring with the stone in it.  
"hey, you okay?" Lydia says cautiously, "You don’t have to tell me if you really can't."  
Stiles’ caught in between two thoughts. It really wasn’t that bad right? It was only a few times. Maybe Lydia has a different idea. Maybe it’s not what he thinks she means. He thinks of all the things that have happened. They’re small right? Stiles still loves him. He’s just muddled things up and making a big deal out of things. Though the more he thinks about it the more he can’t bare not figuring out what the fuck was actually going on. Stiles feels a sudden need to tell her, someone, anyone. But he just can't seem to get anything out of his mouth.  
"His-his name was," Stiles breathes in, feeling the lump forming in his chest and throat. "Emmet."  
"okay, who was this Emmet?" Lydia asks, Stiles feels like he's talking to a therapist. He's never been too fond of them.  
"He was-he was my boyfriend," Stiles' voice breaks on the word 'boyfriend'.  
"Did you like him?"  
Stiles smiles faintly for some reason, "Yeah, a lot."  
"Did he like you too?"  
"Um, yeah, I dunno, I hope so." Stiles' eyebrows scrunch together. He's pretty sure Emmet liked him, he said he loved Stiles all the time so he must've.  
"Did you guys go on dates and stuff often?"  
"Y-yeah, kinda. We were both busy most of the time because of school but we went when he could." Stiles remembers their countless movie dates and nice restaurants, or simply their stay at home dates. His insides suddenly turn sour.  
"That sounds nice. How long have you two been dating?"  
"We began dating a little after I began freshman year."  
A few months before we heard less and less from Stiles, Lydia thought. Puzzle pieces slowly start sliding together.  
“What was he like?”  
“He-he was…nice. Really liked a lot of the things I did. Sometimes we had clashing opinions on things but that’s okay, I didn’t mind. He had black hair and grayish blue eyes. Really loved art museums. A tad clingy but that’s okay with me. He also told me a lot about his family problems back at home, I helped the most I could though I wish I could’ve been there for him more...”  
"Did you guys have sex?" Lydia asks suddenly, completely changing the subject.   
"W-what?" Stiles sputters, 0-100 in .3 milliseconds. He looks at Lydia, bewildered.  
"Did you guys have sex?" Lydia repeats.  
"Um...yes? Why do you need to know this exactly?" Stiles questions, he feels like he’s being interrogated. He doesn't want to talk about this. He feels everything bubble up, the memories, the words, the touches.  
"It was consensual right?"  
"uh, y-yes," Stiles lies. Well a partial lie technically. He can't help the slight shake in his voice, hoping Lydia didn't notice it.  
Lydia squints at Stiles and holding eye contact with him. Stiles squirms uncomfortably in his seat, flitting his eyes from hers, looking out the window on the driver side of the car. He can feel his heartbeat rising, and he can tell she's skeptic. The car is suddenly too small and cramped and he feels like he has his entire life story stamped onto his forehead. He prays that Lydia doesn't find out but at the same time he wants her to so badly so he won't have to say anything himself. He dreads every outcome.  
“You were safe and happy with him right?”  
“In-in what way?”  
“Like in general.”  
“Uhm, y-yeah, of course, I guess. I like him a lot,” he shoves the words out of him. The vibrating in his hands gets more apparent, nervous. His chest tightens.  
"He didn’t abuse you, right, Stiles?" Lydia asks, the question straightforward and not sugarcoated in any way, but her voice soft and cautious, only a tad wary of wading the waters before her.  
"No? I-I don't-I don't," Stiles whimpers, the question and soon following realization, hits him like a fucking truck at 10,000 miles per hour. The floodgates open and tears pour out of his eyes as he attempts to form a sentence. His chest is so tight it feels like imploding in on itself, trying to disappear from existence, and Stiles wants to too.  
Everything felt alright until this moment. Sure, he felt kinda like shit but at least it wasn’t this. At least he was more stable. Less confused. God, he's just so confused and lost. He wishes he never met him, he wishes he never sat down in front of Stiles at that Vietnamese restaurant on the corner of 5th street. He wishes he never went to Pennsylvania. He wishes he never came back here. He wishes he could just go back to when everything seemed okay. He wishes, he wishes, he wishes-  
"Stiles. Stiles, it's okay. Just breathe, just breathe." She says, taking Stiles' hand in hers. Gripping it tightly, trying to keep him grounded.  
"I don't know? I don't know, maybe? I don't," Stiles chokes. He looks up at Lydia and she feels her heart clench and shatter at the same time. His eyes are wide and red rimmed, desperation and panic within them. His entire body, especially his hands, cannot stop shaking. He feels like he's going to throw up or pass out. And he wants everything to go away. He doesn't want this.  
"Stiles, it's okay. It's okay if you're not sure." Lydia says. She just has to keep him together until the panic attack subsides.  
Stiles only bawls more and Lydia leans him forward so his head rests on her shoulder, placing her free hand on the nape of his neck, running her fingers through his hair. She calmly shushes him, holding him as close as the odd confines of the car allow, coming closer and closer to cracking every time Stiles whimpers beneath her arms.  
Eventually Stiles' sobs turn to sniffles and his breathing evens out. Lydia places him back against his seat, realizing that he's fallen asleep.  
There go's her plans for shopping, though she doesn't mind. Lydia has all the time in the world to buy new clothes. She feels bad for sending Stiles into such hysteria. And she regrets pushing him so much. Her heart aches.  
She drives around town aimlessly until Stiles wakes up, knowing she would've never been able to carry his body into the house herself. And there's definitely no way she would've called Derek or another pack member to help, that would raise too many questions and she would most likely be forced to explain; something she promised not to do.  
It doesn't take long for him to wake, 25 minutes at most.  
He blinks a few times, rubbing at his eyes a bit.  
"Hey, you okay?" Lydia asks.  
Stiles looks at her for a second, confused, until he remembers his complete breakdown in the parking lot of the mall.  
"I-uh-yeah, I'm- I'm fine," Stiles murmurs. "Oh, um, thanks by the way, and sorry for ruining your plans for shopping and all."  
"Stiles, it's alright, I don’t mind. The mall isn't going anywhere, or at least I hope not," Lydia says, laughing lightly.  
Stiles smirks a little.  
"We can always reschedule or something," Lydia says, shrugging.  
There's a pause of silence before Lydia speaks up again.  
"Also, if you ever need to talk, my doors are always open."  
Lydia reaches over and squeezes one of Stiles' hand once before returning it to the wheel.  
"Thanks," Stiles says quietly.  
Sooner or later they pull up to Stiles' house. He has no idea was time it is and how long they were out. Though it doesn't seem longer than two hours. The sun is still out, casting light onto the pavement and the paneling of his house.  
He thanks Lydia once again. He reaches towards the handle but Lydia's voice stops him.  
"Don't push yourself too hard, 'kay?" Lydia says, smiling bright and comforting.  
Stiles smiles back, though not as wide, nods once and steps out of the car, onto the driveway.  
He doesn’t look behind him to watch Lydia's car pull out onto the road.  
-  
When he enters his house, it's as silent as it was when he left.  
Unsure what to do he washes the single bowl in the sink from his lunch earlier that day. Then aimlessly flips through the channels until he settles on a random animal documentary.  
Within moments it drowns out to background noise, his mind drifting to what Lydia asked him in the car.  
He traces back everything that happened in Pennsylvania. Was it really anything or is he just dramatizing it.  
Stiles doesn't have his phone or laptop with him, along with no computer around the house to look anything up. Which leaves him with the library. Though he doesn’t have his jeep with him.  
He frowns to himself, until he remembers his old bike in the garage. He used to use that to get literally everywhere before he got his license, including to the library. In an instant he jumps up from the couch, shuts the TV off and makes his way over to the garage.  
It surprisingly doesn't take him long to find his bike in the garage.  
He hops on and pedals onto the street, towards the library.  
The wind blows through his hair and past his bare legs. Whistling by his ears. His calves only burned slightly by the time he reached the library. He walks it over to the bike rack and realizing at that moment he forgot to bring a bike-lock. Cursing, he places the bike down and hopes there are still computers near the windows.  
Stiles walks in and breathes in the familiar smell of books. He hasn't gone to the library in years. There's almost a sense of nostalgia when he walks through the building. He cries with happiness(internally, of course) when he notices that some of the computers haven't moved from their spot near the windows.  
He settles down in front of the monitor farthest to the left, right at the corner of the room, facing out towards the parking lot, right where his bike is.  
Stiles loads up Safari and goes onto Google but just as he's about to type in his search he hesitates. Does he really want to do this? He already knew some stuff about the topic though not enough to judge anything.  
He takes a deep breath and types.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now stiles is still head over heels for this dude, ohoho we’ll see what he uncovers. Also can you tell that I love Lydia?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit well, I'm not dead. um and eh, yeah, so long time so see, I guess, sorry 'bout the verrrrryyy late update but don't y'all give up on me now, this isn't over yet(if any of y'all are still reading this. Sorry again about my horrid habits and hope you enjoy the chapter. (Also shit happens at the end of the chapter, so rip) also lmk any typos or anything

As soon as he puts the words into the search bar he holds his finger on the delete button and removes it. He's read enough from police reports, from the internet, from things people have said. His situation, it just doesn't match up, it doesn't sound like anything serious, he should be able to just get over it soon enough. 

With that, he stands from the computer without leaving the starting webpage once, without thinking twice. This was a stupid idea anyway. 

Stiles walks out of the library, ignoring the woman with the purple dyed hair at the front desk watching him as he pushes through the glass doors. The ride back to his house feels odd, his mind is spinning but he feels numb at the same time. 

\- 

It's been about a week since the library, since his complete breakdown, since he attempted going shopping with Lydia. He's seen her once since then. Honestly, he feels like complete shit. About the most he'd done was go downstairs every now and then for food or dinner with his dad, occasionally he opened the door to Scott or Derek. Other than that, he's cooped himself up in his room sleeping or staring off into space. He knows he should try doing something, so he's not just being a lump of flesh in a room, but he can’t find any actual motivation. 

Stiles sighs, laying on the bed, and raises his hands above his face, staring at them. He's not sure how long he's been awake, but the sun is already fully out and shining light into his room. Stiles wonders if today will be any different. 

He hears the doorbell ring, probably Scott. 

Stiles drags himself off his bed and pulls on a random pair of sweatpants that were laying in a crumpled heap on the ground. 

The doorbell rings a second time as he's going down the stairs and he has to resist screaming in frustration. He rushes down the steps and almost speed walks to the door. Almost. 

He greets Derek, not exactly who he was expecting but not surprising either. 

"hey, what's up?" Stiles says. He leans on his shoulder against the doorframe. 

"I just wanted to let you know, there's a pack meeting today." 

"oh," Stiles replies, he pushes off of the doorframe, his expression more curious and a little concerned. "What time?" 

"Uh, there's no specific time, just come sometime after noon." 

"oh, okay." 

"So, you'll go?" Derek asks, suddenly eager. 

"I'll think about it," Stiles smiles truthfully. 

Derek seems pleased with his response, something in Stiles' chest swells, though he's not exactly sure what. 

"Cool, yeah, think about it," Derek says. 

Stiles begins to step back into the house and reaches for the door. 

"Wait, one more thing," Derek starts, and Stiles pauses. 

"Are you okay?" Derek questions, he leans towards Stiles just barely, Derek probably didn't even realize he was doing it. "You've seemed...off the past few days, like since about a week or so ago. Like more off." 

Stiles was caught aback and there was a brief moment of silence between them before he responded. 

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm doing alright," Stiles says awkwardly. He places a hand on the back of his neck and stares at the mailbox far away at the edge of his front lawn. 

"You sure?" Derek says, concerned. He doesn't mention Stiles’ slight waver in his heartbeat. "Of course you don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm just...I just hope you're doing alright." 

Stiles nods quickly. 

"This isn't connected to the whole going back to Pennsylvania thing right?" Derek asks. He seems legitimately concerned and Stiles feels bad keeping stuff from him. Lydia must not have told Derek about the whole...incident. Though, Derek does seem to sense some of Stiles' uncomfortableness because he follows with, "Again, of course you don’t have to tell me anything but I worry about you. Scott does too. He also thinks you've been acting different when we've visited recently." 

"Thanks, but I'm alright," Stiles says but doesn't elaborate further than that. 

Derek's bushy caterpillar eyebrows bunch together but he nods once, "Okay, see you at the meeting." 

"Yup," Stiles presses his lips into an almost smile before finally closing the door. 

He listens for the sound of Derek’s Camaro to fade as he stares at has hand still hanging loosely on the door handle and then looks up at the clock above the tv. 

10:53 

Just a tad earlier than when he usually wakes up. 

He sighs softly for no actual reason and pours himself a bowl of honey bunches of oats(now with 15% more almonds!) in the kitchen. Following with the milk. 

He takes about a half hour to finish the bowl, taking unreasonably slow spoons of it as he watches the news. Two blonde women are arguing about politics while the anchor – another blonde woman – is framed in between them awkwardly as she tries to get out the next questions. Stiles takes his final sad and soggy bites of cereal then reaches for the remote to turn the tv off but decides to keep it on as mindless background noise. 

After putting the bowl in the sink, he lays on the couch and stares at the ceiling. Again. One hand brushes the tips of the bristles of the carpet and the other rests on his stomach. 

Stiles isn’t sure, and doesn’t really care, how long this goes on for. It isn’t until he reaches an unbearable point of boredom that he sits up and looks at the time again. 

1:35 

A little after noon. Also when Derek said to come for the pack meeting. 

Though he was quite vague. So he could’ve meant 12:15 or 4:30. Who knows. Or possibly 1:35. 

Stiles, with nothing better to do, gets dressed and waits. For just a little bit. 

Then he goes into the garage and grabs his bike. Because no car. No Roscoe. Just bike. 

Derek gave him his new address during one of his last “visits”, with a quick slip of paper into his hand and an ‘incase you ever wanna visit or talk or anything.’ 

Stiles prays his mental gps skills are good enough, though he’s been in this town enough to know the roads like the back of his hand. 

He gets to Derek’s apartment in twenty minutes. He only took a few wrong turns. 

Derek opens the door when Stiles is just two or three doors down from his apartment. 

“Hey glad you could make it,” Derek says, he waves down the hall towards Stiles. 

“Hi, thanks,” Stiles says as he walks through the entrance. Almost everyone is there except Allison. “I’m not late am I?” 

“Nope, you’re all good,” Scott chirps, Isaac’s sitting to the left of him, leaning comfortable against the arm of the couch with his legs tucked underneath him. 

“Where’s Allison?” Stiles asks. He sits onto the floor near the coffee table, Derek takes a seat on the couch, next to Scott. Stiles’ between the couch and an armchair where Lydia is sitting. 

“Couldn’t make it, something about her dad,” Scott frowns but then smiles, “but she’ll be here later today.” 

Stiles nods and takes a chip from a plastic bowl sitting on the table in front of him. 

“Hey Stiles,” Erica says, she’s sitting next to Boyd in a plush loveseat at the end of the table. 

“Hey, Erica, Boyd,” Stiles greets pleasantly. 

“So…what’s the news,” Isaac asks. He also takes a few chips in his hand then crunches on them not so subtly. 

“Nothing much, Argent said to keep a watch out though,” Derek says, “it’s kind of odd that we haven’t run into anything in a while.” 

“Hey, I’m totally fine with that,” Scott says, putting his hands up and shrugging. "Honestly it’s a nice break." 

Lydia tilts her head to the side, looking towards the ceiling and hums in agreement. 

"Why, did you guys deal with a ton while I was gone?" Stiles asks with a mouth full of chips from his place on the floor. Suddenly it felt like all the energy was sucked out of the room. It was as if everyone remembered that Stiles had been gone for so long. 

The moment of it feeling like how it felt before his leave was gone. 

"Not really, nothing like the shit we went up against in high school but a few things here and there, nothing too interesting," Isaac shrugs, thinking. 

Stiles nods, he doesn't find it in himself to ask more. It would feel too much like an intrusion. 

They shift to nonchalant topics such as the shitty lunch Isaac ate at a restaurant yesterday and the new clothes Lydia got a few days ago. 

Erica makes eye contact with Derek when she catches him staring at Stiles. She gives him a knowing grin and Derek only rolls his eyes and shifts his focus to eating chips. 

\- 

It’s still odd to enter the dorm with Stiles not inside. It’s been a a few days or weeks since he disappeared. Emmet hasn’t been keeping track very well. 

He assumes Stiles is in Beacons Hills. His hometown. There’s no where else he could’ve gone. 

Emmet lays down on his bed and contemplates the idea of going there on the possible chance he is in Beacon Hills. 

He sits up from the mattress and goes to the dresser and opens the very bottom drawer. It's still completely full. Packed with Stiles' clothes. Pants, flannels, tee shirts. He laughs to himself. Ridiculous. 

Emmet grabs a duffel bag and places as much of Stiles' clothes he can into the bag, along with some of his own clothes and toiletries. 

Within an hour, the dorm is vacant. 

\- 

Stiles isn't saying he entirely enjoyed the pack meeting and doesn’t admit to himself just how much he missed them but he does admit it was nice to be with everyone… if he ignores the few thoughts edging at his mind. 

He's long done with finishing dinner and he's laying in his room when he hears the doorbell ring. Which is odd. He just saw everyone a few hours ago. 

Stiles goes to open the door and struggles between slamming the door shut or stepping out of the house. 

He goes for neither and simply stays silent as he stares at Emmet on his front doorstep. 

"Hey Stiles," Emmet says, his eyes are red and he looks like he'd been crying. 

"Emmet how did you-?" Stiles starts. 

"I just asked around, it's not hard to find the address of the Stilinski household" Emmet says, shrugging, "But I got really scared when I came home to you missing. I thought you left me." Emmet starts to cry again and Stiles can't help but take a tiny step forward. 

"I-I'm sorry, I just- I wanted to see my dad and-" Stiles rambles, looking down at his feet barely an inch from the doorframe. 

"I know, I know, you haven't seen him in a while but since I'm here, you should come back, come home with me, love," Emmet pleads, he takes one of Stiles' wrists. 

"Emmet, I-I don't-" Stiles stutters but he doesn't pull his hand away. 

"Okay fine, you don't care about me. You don't give one shit. Just like everyone else, you're just like everyone else." Emmet seethes. "You just don't love me." 

Stiles steps out of the house closer to Emmet, "Emmet, I love you so much, I just- Emmet I swear I care about you more than anyone, please don't ever doubt that because I do care. I love you, Emmet." 

"Then why'd you leave? You don’t know the panic I went through when I realized you were gone, you don't know." Emmet says. 

Stiles pauses, "I'm sorry, I just wanted to see my dad and-" 

"you could've just asked instead of just leaving. Why couldn't you just ask?" 

Stiles knows, he knows he could’ve but there was hesitation. Though he knows he should’ve. 

“I know I just-,” His voice gets quieter, “I thought you would be okay with me just going,” he didn’t. He knew he wasn’t going to be okay with Stiles suddenly leaving. He was stupid. So stupid for going. “Well I knew you weren’t going to be okay with it, I’m not even sure why I’m here now, I just-I didn’t want to ask again and seem like I was whining and-.” 

“You thought I wouldn’t let you? It wouldn’t have been whining, my love. This, this, is whining, all these excuses. I would’ve let you come here, what made you think I wouldn’t?” Emmet coos, he places his other hand on Stiles’ waist. 

“I dunno, it’s just when I asked other times you got upset and I thought that would happen again so I thought that-,” stiles mumbles and pauses. “I just I dunno. It was a stupid action. I should’ve just asked. I’m sorry, I was an idiot.” 

“When have I ever gotten upset when you asked? In fact, Stiles, you’ve never asked so what are you even talking about? Now, you’re just making things up,” Emmet laughs, but it’s tense and Stiles feels like he’s walking on a one way path of thin ice over a freezing lake. 

“Oh, I thought-yeah, I guess it was a weird dream or something,” Stiles says. 

“Must’ve been,” Emmet replies. “So, you ready to come home?” 

“I-I don’t know, I just got here and-,” Emmet’s hand on Stiles’ waist tightens subtly. 

“Hey, hey, don’t all panicked. It’s okay, we can stay a little longer, maybe you can introduce me to your dad?” Emmet says gently, he runs a hand through Stiles’ hair. 

Stiles nods, still without looking up at Emmet. 

“Okay, okay. That’s good, we’re good. We’re okay. Right? Everything’s alright, babe,” Emmet consoles. ”Your dad would be okay with me staying right?” 

“Um, yeah, of course. It should be,” Stiles says. 

“Great, I don’t want to intrude or anything,” Emmet smiles. “I’m just going to grab some things from the car, I brought some of your clothes by the way. There’s a lot still left at home.” 

“Oh, thanks. And that’s okay,” Stiles says gratefully, “do you need any help?” 

“No, it’s fine. You can just wait here, I’ll only be a second,” Emmet says as he walks towards his car. 

Stiles isn’t sure whether his chest tightens or relaxes to the feeling of Emmet being in Beacon Hills and he ignores the looming questions and things Lydia had said sitting in his head, but he waits at the doorway and does nothing as he watches Emmet retrieve his things from the trunk of his ever so familiar vehicle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's emmet! Surprise! :D (Not actually smiling cause he should just leAVE). hope y'all enjoyed it and hopefully I won't take three decades to write the next update.


End file.
